


waterfalls coming out of your mouth

by dreamkinks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mentioned Bokuto Koutarou, Mentioned Hinata Shouyou, Oranges, msby and they were roommates au, sakusa is confused and atsumu is there to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamkinks/pseuds/dreamkinks
Summary: tldr: sakusa kiyoomi has never been kissed and is unsure of the mechanics of how it works. atsumu — stupid, annoying, bratty miya atsumu — is there to help.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	waterfalls coming out of your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> im in hell. sakuatsu hell.

kiyoomi thinks that four men should not be allowed to live under the same roof. specifically if those men are himself, miya atsumu, hinata shoyo and bokuto koutarou. 

for starters, bokuto is probably the most disgusting human being he’s ever met in his life. kiyoomi has attempted multiple times to get him evicted on accounts of a) forgetting which toothbrush is his b) forgetting which loofah is his and c) asking why you need to flip your mattress. he hasn’t been successful thus far, but he’s sure he’s close to cracking the code to getting him the hell out of here. 

hinata  _ should  _ be okay: he’s different from high school, no longer so… rambunctious, though still very intense sometimes. but he’s loud. and he talks about kageyama constantly to the point where sometimes kiyoomi wonders if he should just die alone. homosexuality is a disease and he will rue the day he realized that he was sick. 

and then there’s atsumu, and everything about him makes kiyoomi— _ itch.  _ atsumu is like an itch in a hard to reach spot and no matter how  _ badly  _ he tries to scratch at it, it just won’t go away. it’s annoying and stupid and kiyoomi often thinks about what it would be like to flush him down the toilet like the bully in an american movie. 

the worst part? they all treat kiyoomi like their  _ friend. _

worse yet, he lets them. he’s been around far too long to know that whatever those three want, they  _ get.  _ if they want to call him “omi-san”, they do, without any regards to his feelings of how utterly stupid he thinks it is. if they want him to  _ do the thing, omi-omi!  _ he hates that he knows that means showing off his “gross” hyper-flexible wrists. he even lets them keep up the scoreboard that tracks who had the most service aces in a match. that one may just be to boost his own ego. he’s been in the lead for three months. 

anyway. against all known laws of humanity, kiyoomi has become comfortable with the idiot trio. bokuto has even caught him with his mask off in their apartment, though in his defence, it was six in the morning and no one was supposed to be awake. he’s not a robot; every now and then he enjoys some unfiltered, smoggish air, too. 

(the mere thought of it makes him choke on a gag, and atsumu looks at him funny. ugh.)

yes, he and atsumu are currently seated under the kotatsu in the living room, watching some stupid rom-com the latter put on because kiyoomi didn’t want to reach for the remote. he regrets it now: atsumu has supremely terrible taste. 

“nuh-uh,” the setter had pointed an accusatory finger at him. “i have  _ great _ taste. newsflash, omi-omi, nobody under the age of seventy-five is watching nature documentaries for pleasure.”

well sue him then. 

so kiyoomi just sits there quietly, frowning at the screen as he absentmindedly shoves orange slices into his mouth. he had long mastered the art of getting food under his mask without triggering an attack, and atsumu was far enough away that he didn’t mind eating. a pair of gloves lay on the table, the remnants of orange peel stuck to the latex. 

he finds his gaze being pulled towards the gloves. atsumu’s fingers drum against the surface next to them, absentmindedly playing along to the score of the movie. kiyoomi couldn’t help but wonder when this had become normal. atsumu doesn’t care about other people, so then why… 

“omi-omi, yer gonna miss the best part!” atsumu sounds almost as excited as when hinata scores a nasty point off one of his sets. letting his train of thought die, kiyoomi languidly drags his eyes back to the screen, though he can’t imagine how anything in this movie could be classified as  _ good.  _

he watches reproachfully as the big reveal happens. all the characters on screen showcase ranging expressions of shock. the female lead does a pretty good job to look on the edge of tears, backing away slowly to make a dramatic exit. that is until the male lead grabs her by the wrist and spins her around (is this a disney movie? gross) to crash their lips together. he imagines that this is supposed to be an example of just how much he doesn’t care about her past and only who she  _ is,  _ but kiyoomi kind of wants to barf.

he also doesn’t understand. 

“how do they do that?” he finds himself asking before he can even register that his mouth has moved. atsumu’s eyes are still shining when they pull away from the screen, his head tilted cutely as he waits for kiyoomi to elaborate. ugh, fuck.“n-never mind.”

“omi-kun, i’ve never heard ya stutter before,” atsumu laughs, all of his attention now solely on kiyoomi. he was going to have to do this, wasn’t he? atsumu would never let him live it down otherwise, and though earbuds existed, kiyoomi figures he wouldn’t be able to deal with him for long. “what is it? you can ask me anything, i won’t judge.”

something about that makes him angry, so he glares at atsumu respectively. the other doesn’t budge, simply taking a sip from his tea as he waits for kiyoomi to explain himself. 

kiyoomi doesn’t think he’s stubborn, though he knows some people would beg to differ. however no one else is home, the kotatsu has him feeling warm, and he wants to be able to sleep at night. so he goes for it. 

“how do people kiss? don’t the noses get in the way?”

he doesn’t have time to regret asking, because the look on atsumu’s face as he chokes on his tea is so amusing that he lets out a sharp breath through his nose. atsumu glares at him, not nearly as amused. “omi-kun! yer so annoying, ya know that? how can ya even ask a guy that like yer askin’ what’s for dinner?"

he only shrugs, though he doesn’t have an answer. how else is he supposed to ask? it’s a dumb question. “how does that make me annoying?”

“it just—!” atsumu inhales and exhales quickly in succession, cutting himself off. he presses two fingers to his forehead and closes his eyes as if he’s trying really hard not to say something without thinking. somewhere inside of him, kiyoomi applauds him for trying; it must be incredibly difficult for someone like atsumu to control his brain-to-mouth filter. “look. warn a guy or somethin’, alright?” he sighs and drops his head onto the kotatsu, cheek leaning against the smooth surface. kiyoomi bristles when atsumu looks up at him again; were his eyelashes always so long? “ya like—turn a bit, i guess? why are ya askin’? never been kissed before?”

kiyoomi’s eyebrow twitches and somehow that’s all it takes for atsumu to understand.  _ itch.  _ “no way! omi, ya seriously have never locked lips with anyone? but yer a catch!”

“did it occur to you that i may have avoided any and all advances due to my,” he pauses, eyes narrowed at the setter,  _ “condition?” _ it isn’t really that big of a deal, in kiyoomi’s opinion. but people like atsumu, hinata and bokuto—touchy-feely, starved for warmth—think  _ he’s _ the weird one.

atsumu shuts his mouth after that, turning away from kiyoomi. “okay, well. yeah i guess that could be the case.”

he only rolls his eyes and brings another orange slice under his mask. “don’t act like you haven’t read the thirst tweets about us,” he says confidently, since he’d actually seen it open on atsumu’s laptop once. “haven’t you seen the latest poll results? i was voted sexiest on the team.”

“why are ya sayin’ that like it’s an accomplishment?! i’ve won, like, 5 times!”

“you keep count?”

“of course i keep— _ omi!” _

he only snorts before beginning to stand up. seems he was worried for nothing; this is atsumu they’re talking about, after all. 

“where are ya goin’?” atsumu asks and he looks so genuinely confused that kiyoomi is leaving that he pauses where he’s standing. 

“uh, my room?”

“why? we can just do it here.”

“...do what here?”

kiyoomi isn’t sure how many seconds go by as he and atsumu simply stare at each other. a million and one emotions seem to cross atsumu’s face before kiyoomi can even blink. “omi…” atsumu starts slowly, his expression having settled on confusion. “why did you ask me that?”

he immediately knows that atsumu is referencing his earliest question. his frown deepens but he doesn’t quite have an answer either. absently, his fingers reach up to twist the ties of his mask. “i didn’t mean to ask  _ you,” _ he says, which is true. “it just… slipped out?”

atsumu cocks an eyebrow at him. “really? don’t sound too sure about that.”

well maybe he would be if he could get a straight answer. he stands up straighter and narrows his eyes at the setter. “whatever, miya.”

“y’know what i think?” atsumu grins, looking like a real-life cheshire cat. kiyoomi doesn’t know and doesn’t care. he begins to walk towards his room, though he can hear atsumu getting up to trail after him. for what exactly, he isn’t sure, but he doesn’t think he wants to find out.  _ “shit— _ oi, omi!”

atsumu calls his name another five times before kiyoomi sighs and relents. he turns around to face atsumu, who —  _ okay,  _ is much closer than he anticipated. kiyoomi almost startles, taking a step back to put some distance between them. “what?”

the blond stares at him as if he’s trying to figure something out, and his eyes look almost as intense as they do on the court. it makes a shiver roll down his spine and he doesn’t understand why he’s on the receiving end of this look right now. atsumu looks wicked, as if he’s seconds away from devouring him and — shit, he’d never say it out loud, but it’s almost a  _ little  _ attractive. 

kiyoomi has been the object of many lustful looks from hungry fans and players alike but this — this is different. this is  _ atsumu.  _ stupid, annoying, bratty miya atsumu, who uses gloves to peel kiyoomi’s oranges and put laminated nametags on all of their loofahs. 

oh,  _ shit _ —

“ya look like ya wanna try it out,” is all that atsumu says, and kiyoomi’s brain promptly shuts down. 

it feels like that scene from spongebob where multiple versions of the yellow creature run around as his brain is on fire and they’re all screaming. part of him wants to puke, another to start crying, but a much too large part of him also wants atsumu’s lips on his right this second and he  _ hates _ it.

_ itch. _

“why would i want that?” he manages to choke out. he’s never been more glad to be sporting a mask, because he knows his cheeks are positively ablaze right now. he prays to every god there is that atsumu can’t tell. 

atsumu only chuckles and steps further into his space, forcing kiyoomi one step back. “i pay attention to my hitters, y’know?” he starts, pressing forward yet again and kiyoomi  _ hates  _ him, because there’s nowhere left for him to go; the cool metal of his room’s doorknob is pressing into his back but he can’t feel his fingers, can’t make himself reach for it. “maybe you don’t see it, but yer just like shoyo-kun, bokkun and i. when ya get an idea, when ya get  _ curious,  _ ya always wanna try it.”

“i do not—”

“you do. i love that about ya, omi; always surprisin’ me, even when yer supposed to be the steady one.” kiyoomi tries not to focus on the  _ love  _ because he knows that’s not what atsumu means, but his heart starts racing all the same. what the hell is happening here? “that’s why i know. i know ya wanna try it, just to find out for sure.”

he already has a few inches on atsumu but he finds himself turning his nose up just the same, to regain some sort of power that he feels the other is draining from him. “and why does that have to be with  _ you, _ miya?”

“is there anyone else you would trust?”

obviously. but the other candidates happen to be in happy and healthy relationships, and kiyoomi was no homewrecker. 

“when did i ever say i trusted you?”

“when ya let me peel your oranges.”

_ itch. _

“you’re going to keep bothering me until i say yes, won’t you?” kiyoomi asks, though it isn’t really a question. he  _ knows _ atsumu: when he thinks he’s got the lead on something, he chases it down like a dog to a bone. “what’s it to you anyway?” he smirks, an idle thought giving him a burst of confidence. he takes the opportunity to lean further into atsumu’s space, properly reversing the roles for the first time since this conversation started. “don’t tell me you  _ want _ to kiss me, miya?”

the look in atsumu’s eyes is almost primal and kiyoomi has to fight off the urge to shove him against the wall. 

“and what if i did?”

well kiyoomi has absolutely nothing to say to that. 

he won’t say he hasn’t thought about it. he may be a germaphobe (by definition, not to his own standards), and though the concept of exchanging bacteria is so repulsive that he wants to drown himself in rubbing alcohol, he does have eyes. atsumu wasn’t kidding when he said he’d won multiple of those polls, and lest someone held a gun to his head, kiyoomi would even admit that it was well deserved. because atsumu is  _ pretty _ and stupidly charming when he’s not being a try hard. he’s easy on the eyes and has a smile that lights up entire stadiums (kiyoomi  _ knows)  _ and —

and kiyoomi, unfortunately, has liked him for quite some time now. 

_ itch.  _

“earth to omi-kun,” atsumu grins, his eyes twinkling mischievously. kiyoomi hates him. “got lost in my eyes there, didn’t ya?”

“you’re so fucking stupid,” is all kiyoomi can say in retaliation, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. “have you ever even kissed anyone?”

“why are ya askin’? got expectations?” kiyoomi’s fingers manage to find the doorknob and he grips it like a lifeline as atsumu crowds further into him. if not for his mask they’d practically be sharing the same air. “don’t worry, omi, i’ll make sure to rock yer world.”

kiyoomi glares at him. “i don’t need you to rock anything. you’re forcing me to experience something i didn’t ask for.” 

“ah, but you still haven’t said you don’t want me to,” atsumu retorts, though the lack of distance between them means kiyoomi can see it clear as day when his eyes flicker with uncertainty. he wonders if there’s a violently affectionate way he can make sure he never has to see that look again. “yer move, omi-kun.”

just like many things between them, it’s not really a question, but kiyoomi would kill himself before he made it seem as if he was  _ eager _ to kiss  _ atsumu.  _ so he stands still, searches atsumu’s eyes one last time to make sure he’s not being fucked with — he’s not sure if he’ll die of mortification or kill atsumu out of spite otherwise — before slowly reaching up towards his face. he wonders briefly if he should've let atsumu do this part (a man can dream, no?) but figures he’d probably never figure out what kiyoomi wanted. so he simply grabs the mask near the bridge of his nose and pulls it under his chin. 

atsumu’s eyes follow the movement before dragging up to his lips and back to his eyes. “y’know, ya got a real pretty little mouth, omi-omi,” the blond is whispering now even though they’re the only ones home but kiyoomi doesn’t feel like he can even  _ breathe.  _ “why don’t we test her out for something other than throwing insults at me, hm?”

and then atsumu is pressing in, in,  _ in _ and—

kiyoomi decides that, yes, the noses do get in the way a bit, until atsumu tilts his head in a way that feels so much better in so many places. he lets his eyes shut and follows atsumu’s lead, pressing into the setter with a bit more pressure. he’s not sure how much to apply, or what he’s allowed to do, but atsumu’s lips are incredibly soft and incredibly warm so he simply tries not to think about it. he tastes like green tea and oranges. feels like sunlight shining through winter clouds. kiyoomi, for once, doesn’t feel like he’s burning; the need to rub his skin raw is muted, just for now.

in theory, the kiss doesn’t last very long. there are no fireworks either, contrary to what every teen romance movie in existence described. but it still feels… well, really fucking good. kiyoomi hates that he feels disappointed when atsumu pulls away, but tries to hide it by pulling up his mask as quickly as possible. if atsumu sees the redness in his cheeks before he manages to cover up, he says nothing about it. instead he just smiles and tilts his head, looking up at kiyoomi as if he’s asking  _ well? i rocked yer world, didn’t i? _

“a little,” kiyoomi says. “they get in the way a little. or maybe you just have a big nose.”

the smile doesn’t drop completely but atsumu rolls his eyes at him anyway. “ya could've just said it was good, y’know.” as if atsumu’s ego needed the boost; no thanks. 

“i never asked if you were a  _ good _ kisser.”

“and now ya don’t hafta because ya know that i am,” kiyoomi rolls his eyes now, and he’s glad that atsumu can’t see him smiling. “and omi? feel free to ask again if ya ever get curious.” atsumu winks. (he almost misses it because for some odd reason he can’t stop looking at atsumu’s lips? strange.)

unlike every other time he’s done so, kiyoomi doesn’t respond with a grimace or say  _ ew.  _ instead he hums, looks atsumu up and down, and twists the handle of his door so that it opens. 

“alright, miya,” he says in the same tone as always. “i’m very curious about something.”

it’s almost comical how much atsumu’s eyes widen, looking between kiyoomi and his room — which, granted, he’s never seen, much less been  _ inside  _ of. kiyoomi will never hear the end of it later, but now,  _ now _ —

if kiyoomi’s smile finally reaches his eyes when atsumu pushes him inside — well, nobody has to know. 

(and if the itch he's felt for weeks, months, _years_ — nationals, 2012 — finally subsides, he presumes nobody needs to know that either.)

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading <3


End file.
